


A Warm and Gentle Tug

by YakuzaDog



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blood, Established Relationship, Faintness, Fear, Fluff, Gottbleed Week, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nausea, Needles, blood drawing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YakuzaDog/pseuds/YakuzaDog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann has a fear of having his blood drawn due to the fact that he always passes out or gets sick while it happens. This time around however, Hermann takes Newt along with him to his appointment to help ease him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warm and Gentle Tug

**Author's Note:**

> Saw there was a little event on tumblr called Gottbleed week going on and BOOM I'm hit with an idea. Thank you for that, really. The last thing I'd ever think I'd want to write about is blood, but welp, here is something.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for needles, blood, and explicit descriptions of nausea and faintness. (However, there really isn't any heavy emphasis on descriptions of blood)

 

It was an irrational fear of his, really.

It shouldn’t make him feel scared or sick to his stomach or any other form of discomfort. It was all natural and normal and definitely not something that should make him want to faint or gag or feel weak in the knees.

But it does and it makes his blood boil. Or well… perhaps another phrase would work better than that one.

Hermann Gottlieb sits, determined, on the sofa in the living room. His thumb trembles as it hovers over the button to dial on his phone that he grips tightly in his hand. He shakes his head and steels himself. He presses the button to dial.

A weary voice picks up on the other line and recites a well-practiced script. Hermann answers in a strained, even voice and supplies a date and time. He hangs up and puts down the phone. He exhales.

Hermann has an appointment to have blood drawn at a lab tomorrow morning.

It should not make him feel nervous or distressed or nauseous. But it does.

Ever since Hermann was a child, having blood drawn from him has always been a horrible experience for him. He cannot remember a time where he had not passed out in the chair or stumbled embarrassingly to the toilets to be sick.

It’s the red and the tug that gets to him the most. The deep, dark color of the fluid and the unyielding pull as the blood spills from under his skin and pours into a little glass tube. There is pain and sickness and the warm, red liquid staring back at Hermann’s discoloring face and then suddenly all is buoyant and dark.

Hermann feels his limbs weaken at just the memory. He shudders out a shaky breath and clenches his fists in his lap. The embarrassment as a result of his vulnerability is inevitable. Tomorrow he will go to the lab, have less than an ounce of blood drawn, and promptly pass out before the liquid has even left his body.

Hermann frowns and he feels his face flush with humiliation.

Just then, Newt shuffles into the room. He’s still in his pajamas and his hair is sleep-tousled. “’Morning, Herms,” he says sleepily around a yawn.

Hermann grunts in greeting, distracted by his thoughts.

Newt heads towards the kitchen but stops in his tracks when he sees the look of worry on Hermann’s face. “You feeling all right there, dude?”

Hermann shakes himself out of his daze and forces a small smile in Newt’s direction. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Newt walks over to the sofa and sits down next to Hermann. “Nope. Nope, you’re definitely not fine. I can see it all over your face.” Newt places a hand on Hermann’s cheek and turns Hermann’s head to look directly at him. “What’s the matter, Hermann?”

Hermann stares at the kind eyes gazing into his own. He sighs and gently lets his cheek settle into Newt’s palm. The comfort of his lover’s touch helps Hermann to forget about the stress that’s been placed upon his shoulders this morning.

Newt watches Hermann with careful eyes and brushes the tips of his fingers over Hermann’s brow. “You know, whatever’s bothering you, I’m always here to listen.” He leans forward and presses his lips against Hermann’s forehead. “Let me help? Please?”

Hermann pulls back slowly and let’s himself be honest. “Can I ask you a favor, Newton?”

 

* * *

 

Hermann and Newt arrive at the blood lab twenty minutes before Hermann’s appointment. They sit together silently in the crowded waiting room as they wait for Hermann’s name to be called. Anticipation weighs heavy in Hermann’s gut and it makes his leg quiver.

Eventually, a nurse calls his name and they are escorted into a back room and behind a curtain-drawn area. The nurse points to a large leather chair with armrests, prompting Hermann to sit.

Hermann gradually settles himself down into the worn chair.

The nurse gives him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Are you ready?” she asks.

Hermann nods a little too quickly and utters a shaky “yes.” He clears his throat and wills the burning in his cheeks to go away.

As the nurse rolls up the left sleeve of Hermann’s sweater, Newt crouches next to Hermann on his right side. Newt takes Hermann’s free hand and soothingly strokes his thumb over Hermann’s knuckles. “Hey,” he says quietly. “You’ll be fine. It’ll be over in a flash!”

Hermann can only nod again. “Yes. I know,” he mumbles.

A tourniquet is wrapped around the muscles of Hermann’s upper arm. Hermann clenches his teeth as the rope binds tightly around him, making his arm feel stiff and uncomfortable.

The nurse opens a jar and pulls out a packaged antiseptic wipe. It crinkles softly—loud in the nearly silent room—as she fumbles to open it.

In the background, there’s the soft sound of music from a radio—classic hits from the ‘90s, ‘80s, and more. Hermann tries to listen to the lulling song that’s playing, but he can hardly hear it over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

The coolness of the antiseptic wipe touches Hermann’s skin. It’s almost soothing in contrast to the sickly warmth of nausea that’s beginning to pool in his stomach.

But then there’s the needle being pulled out from a drawer and Hermann can’t bear to watch anymore. He turns his head towards Newt and shuts his eyes.

Newt gently squeezes Hermann’s hand in his own. “Just breathe, okay?” He squeezes Hermann’s hand again. “Just look at me and breathe.”

Hermann opens his eyes.

Newt smiles and leans in closely to whisper in Hermann’s ear. “ _You_ are going to own this bad boy, for sure.”

The creeping panic in Hermann’s chest dissolves as he lets soft laughter escape him. Hermann gives Newt a humble look that says “thank you.”

A gloved hand gently presses on Hermann’s left wrist, steadying. “Okay, hold still,” says the nurse.

Hermann glances over instinctively and sees the needle poised in the crook of his elbow.

His mouth goes dry. _Oh god_. He quickly turns his head away as he feels the pinch of the needle breaching his skin.

Hermann forces himself to inhale deeply until his lungs feel ready to burst. He can feel the blood being pulled from his vein—a harsh tugging sensation that makes Hermann want to recoil in discomfort.

Right on cue, Hermann feels his head start to swim, lightheaded. He feels his blood run chill and his stomach churn violently, nausea flooding over him. There’s a throbbing in the back of his head and it feels like his body is about to plunge forward into darkness.

“Hermann.” Newt’s voice sounds like it’s a hundred meters away. “Breathe, Hermann. You’re doing great.”

Hermann groans weakly and it’s silent to his own ears. He wills himself to take another breath. He holds it. And he exhales. Again. Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.

“You’re almost done, Hermann.” Newt massages Hermann’s hand in both of his own, pumping warmth back into Hermann’s bloodstream. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Hermann urges his head to stay upright and he focuses on the comforting pressure on his right hand. Slowly, he feels the buzzing in his head ebb away and the blood still left within him pulse and push, making him feel grounded.

The needle in his arm retreats and a swab of cotton takes its place.

Hermann lets out a slow, whiny breath of relief.

“Good job, Herm! You did it!” Newt praises joyfully.

Hermann blinks open his eyes, the brightness in the room overwhelming him (although not nearly as much as the shining look of adoration on Newt’s face). “Yes, yes. All right.”

Newt leans down to Hermann’s hand and places a swift kiss on his knuckles. Any trace of green still left on Hermann’s face now recedes as his cheeks glow warm with a rosy blush.

Hermann clears his throat and whispers softly, “Thank you, Newt.”

“Is it always that bad for you?” the nurse asks casually as she wraps tape around the swab on Hermann’s arm.

“It’s usually worse, to be quite honest.” Hermann looks over to Newt at his side and smiles warmly. “But it really wasn’t so bad this time around.”

 

* * *

 

Later, after Hermann and Newt leave the lab, Newt immediately drags Hermann around the block to an ice cream parlor. Newt orders the sweetest-looking flavor in the display and piles the dessert with as many sugary treats the dish can possibly hold and practically shoves the thing in Hermann’s face and demands him to eat it.

Hermann, too tired to argue and still really rather grateful for Newt’s company, sighs exasperatingly, takes the spoon that Newt hands him, and takes a bite of the candied mountain in front of him.

Newt grins widely and Hermann’s stomach flutters in all the right ways.

 


End file.
